


A Hammer to the Heart

by anyankafirequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Assistant Stiles, Construction Worker Derek, Derek Needs To Use His Words, Lydia is my spirit animal, M/M, Maybe in an epilogue?, Oblivious Stiles, Sassy Lydia, Stiles is ridiculous, There was supposed to be porn but I failed, smoosh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyankafirequeen/pseuds/anyankafirequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Actually we were talking about the quarterly market, but if you’d rather discuss your recent obsession with tall, dark and angry out there, we can do that too.” </p>
<p>Lydia is a smartass and a bamf and Stiles really just has no idea how this is happening to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hammer to the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this weeks ago and it's just sat there and I finally figured, oh screw it. So here you go. A one shot drabble of ridiculous proportions inspired but the super freaking hot construction guy that *I* get to look at everyday.

 

                “You know, the longer you stare out that window and _ignore_ my explanation of the fiscal review, the more I start to think you just don’t care about me anymore, Stiles.”  

 

                The young man in question whipped his head back around to glance at his coworker, a sheepish look overtaking his features.  He shifted the black framed glasses on the bridge of his nose uncomfortably. The redhead across from him raised a delicate brow, leaning back in the rather posh office chair and tapping her manicured fuchsia nails across the table.   “Sorry Lyds, I swear you have my full attention, now. You were talking about the Bison merger?”

 

                Lydia Martin, Junior Executive, immediate boss over him (and best female friend for nearly six years since they’d graduated high school together in the small town of Beacon Hills), huffed, rolling her eyes.  He’d known her long enough to take signals that she’d long passed the Bison merger and likely moved on to another topic for their bi-monthly office huddle.   The small quirk on her lips, however, told him that she wasn’t as completely upset as she liked to dramatize.

 

                He’d known her well enough in high school, trailing after her for a few years with a rather hopeless crush until junior year, when his abrupt sexual realization had taken place and he’d accepted that not only was he mostly attracted to men, but that Lydia stood as the one and only female he’d ever truly lusted after.  Once senior year had come and gone and the two had graduated Valedictorian, she’d drawn him up under her wing and stolen him away to Stanford with her, pushing him to follow her into a duel major. It had not only succeeded in earning him a degree in both business and technology (Lydia had traded the latter for physics, for god knows what reason), but had also landed them both with a fairly prominent job at a prestigious accounting firm.  Lydia, of course, had worked her way up the corporate ladder and now stood just over him. She’d drug Stiles with her on the way up, claiming that if she were to grow, he would too so she would not be left with all idiots for employees. In all truth, he believed she just couldn’t stand being at the top without someone she knew she could lovingly badger.

 

                “Actually we were talking about the quarterly market, but if you’d rather discuss your recent obsession with tall, dark and angry out there, we can do that too.”

 

                Stiles was positive he actually let out a rather unattractive squeak. “What? What are you talking about? I was just…reorganizing my thoughts occupied by a mindless stare! Yes, exactly. That.” He nodded, trying to ignore the incredulous look her face took on.

 

                “Stiles, for the last four months, not only have you refused to have our meetings in the actual _meeting_ room on the fourth floor, but you’ve not left this office between the hours of eight and three except to eat lunch and every time I walk by I see you staring down across the street like some love stricken puppy.” She smirked, taking great satisfaction in the flush that came over his cheeks.   “Tell me again that you aren’t checking out the gorgeous, ripped construction worker across the street.”

 

                Stiles knew a dare when saw one, and that was a dare. _Lie to me,_ it screamed. _Lie to me and suffer the consequences, likely of which will be me moving your office to an interior one where you can no longer ogle those sweat-slicked muscles you’re so desperate to touch._

Touché, friend, touché.

 

                He stared her down for a moment longer before slumping back down into his chair and tapping harshly at the keys on his laptop, doing nothing more than scrolling from page to page. “Fine. Okay, so _maybe_ I’ve been keeping a close eye on the construction company across the street, but for all we know there could be some severe safety hazards! And what if no one else is looking and something falls or someone gets hurt and there is no one to see it? Huh? What then?” he challenged, knowing full well how ridiculous he sounded, but once he got going, it was hard to stop. “And from three floors up, I have a vantage point, you know? Like, I can see inside the barricaded areas and if someone gets hurt there, then I can call and maybe save a life. I’m only being responsible, Lydia.”

 

                “The only responsibility you are taking on is studying enough detail on that man so you can have a take-home fantasy, Stiles.  I know you.  A beam could impale one of the other workers and you would still be slobbering all over the window at your hottie.” She quirked, ignoring the indignant sputtering in favor of checking the curvature of her nails.

 

                “That-that-!” he huffed for a moment before dropping his head onto the oak desk with a rather loud thud. “that is so true” came the whine, muffled slightly by the desk against his face.  He couldn’t even find the energy to slap her hands away when she pat him distantly on the back of the head.

 

                “There, there.  Look, he’s obviously a distraction, so I tell you what.  On your lunch break, go down there, introduce yourself and ask him out for a drink.” Stiles’ head popped up at her suggestion, eyes wide in disbelief. “The worst he can say is no.”

 

                “No, the worst he can say is a punch in the face. Or a broken limb. Or worse yet, a judgmental stare because he’s probably straighter than the nails he hammers in with those big, round, hard-“

 

                “OKAY!” Lydia’s eyes rolled skyward as she drew herself up from the seat and brushed the edges of her Armani skirt flat. “Fine. Pine away over Mr. Hot Construction worker, but for the love of Pete, Stiles, keep up with the ledgers I gave you and don’t forget to send me the report. It hasn’t affected your performance, and not that I expect it to,” she stated pointedly, shrugging off the rather offended look he shot her, “but if you fall behind and they put someone else under me, or god forbid, move me up without you, you’ll have hell to pay Stiles Stilinski.”

 

                And just like that, with a whip of her luscious red hair, Lydia swept from his office and back out into the hall, already smirking as she took joy in barking her orders to employees milling around away from their desks.

 

                Stiles took the next few minutes to beat his head against his desk until a burning pain blossomed outwards across his temples.  It didn’t stop him, however, from turning back to glance out the window just as three-thirty hit.  Across the street, the construction team was slowing their work, setting tools back in storage, roping off dangerous areas for the evening and laying tarp over open concrete and walls. They’d been working on the reconstruction of the business offices across the street for almost five months. The first month, Stiles hadn’t taken much notice, instead throwing himself into his paperwork and pushing out documents left and right until he was so far ahead that he literally had nothing to do one fateful afternoon, when he’d turned and happened to glance out the window. 

 

                Like a scene out of a terribly cheesy movie, he’d caught sight of a man he’d been unable to draw his eyes away from.  Tall with dark hair and jeans far too tight, the perfect definition of muscle drawn over what could only be an immaculate skeletal structure. That day, the man was using a jackhammer, his arms thick and taut as he gripped the handles with what Stiles could only imagine were perfect, large hands. He couldn’t see exactly from his window but the build on the man’s back, stretching his tank top was enough to shoot Stiles into the early twentieth century vapors, fanning himself even in his seventy-two degree office.  He’d watched the man work, wiping sweat from his brow before going back to the job at hand, for nearly an hour before he could pull himself away.

 

                For six weeks, it went on that way and Stiles had nearly convinced himself that though the man were built like a mythical titan, his face was almost always hidden and so, must of course, be quite unbearable. In his head, he formed the most hideous features he could imagine and by the end of that day, had pleased himself by ignoring the window in favor of his work. He was able to continue this strategy for a week or so before it all came tumbling down.

 

                He’d been in half an hour early, trying to beat the early morning traffic and rain. Instead of heading straight in, however, he’d stopped in at the coffee shop on the corner. Waiting in line to surprise Lydia with a mocha soy latte with extra whipped cream and having just ordered, he’d felt a heavy ominous presence looming behind him. And so, as was he prone to do with his usual curiosity, Stiles turned to glance at the person standing behind him only to find that it was indeed not a person, but an actual Greek god hovering directly over his shoulder.  There had been no mistaking those muscles or those jeans or that dark hair, but all of the careful buildup that Stiles had masked over for his face was demolished and in its place stood the perfect example of masculinity and sex.  Sex which raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. 

 

                He’d been so stunned that he’d only sputtered a few words before stumbling out of line and back out onto the sidewalk, ignoring the shouts of the barista that he hadn’t gotten his order. A sharp, intense stare seemed to follow him all the way up to his office, even after he’d tripped off the elevator and locked himself behind closed doors.

 

                He’d avoided the coffee shop since then, much to Lydia’s disapproval (it was her favorite after all and Stiles was known to pamper her).  Instead, he’d purchased one of those private coffee and cappuccino machines with the small pre-flavored cups. It wasn’t the same, but the caffeine was good enough to avoid the route that may have a chance of intercepting super hot construction worker.

 

                **

 

                Two Tuesdays later, his investment sputtered into an early grave.  The sudden lack of caffeine left Lydia on the warpath, employees breaking away, a few in tears as she tore her way down the hall and into Stiles’ personal office.  She slapped a thick manila folder down in front of him, ignoring the raised eyebrows shot at her from over his frames.

 

                “I need coffee and I need it now and since you are technically my lackey, that job falls on you. Now go to the corner and get me a non-fat soy mocha latte with extra whip and those little chocolate sprinkles you know I like.”   

 

                Frowning, Stiles glanced under the cover of the folder, eyebrows raising up at the rather high-priority report.  He turned his gaze out the window, eyeing the spitting rain warily. “It looks like it’s going to start pouring any minute. Do you seriously need your coffee right this very minute?”

 

                Crossing her arms, Lydia pursed her lips at him. “Yes. In fact, I needed it this morning but that stupid piece of technological junk decided to bite the dust and you and I have a major file packet to go over today if we plan at all to present to the board by the end of the month. I got the details, now you get to get the coffee.”

 

                Shoulders dropping in resignation, Stiles huffed before leaving the office with a fairly pride-filled Lydia on his heels. She had the gall to follow him all the way down the elevators and to the front door, shooing at him in a flurry of hands before sweeping back upstairs. All of the short walk to the coffee shop, Stiles could feel the rain pelting down on the material of his suit and chanced a glare up at the darkening sky.  He loathed to think what it would do the material or how Lydia would gripe at him for not having thought of an umbrella.  She was the one who chose all of his suits after all; while Stiles couldn’t even name the brand, she could name the material and stitch on each piece.

 

                The coffee shop was less packed than usual, being mid-morning.  The barista, however, recognized Stiles instantly and shot him a bright smile. “The usual today?” he called over the shoulder of a shorter, portly man standing before the counter as he waited on his order to be completed. 

 

                Stiles returned the smile, glad to see a familiar face. Isaac had been working at the corner coffee shop since Stiles had started at the new firm and he’d been nothing but pleasant, even when his customers were rude and demanding. Sidling his way up behind the other man, who shot him a rather nasty look, he nodded. “Yeah, you know Lydia, she loves her coffee. I’ll just get a plain black today though, I’m going to need the straight up caffeine to handle this weeks projects.”

 

                Isaac chuckled, the waves in his hair shaking as he nodded back, turning to start on Stiles’ order before handing the short business man his tall frappaccino.  Isaac was one of those people that Stiles would always be able to get along with; always positive and always smiling. Sometimes, when the shop was slow enough they would stand and talk about nothing in particular, sometimes making him late for work.   He should probably ask him to hang out outside of work sometime. He had a feeling they would get along great with him and Scott on gaming nights.

 

                Once his order came up, he waved a hand in acknowledgement at Isaac before taking off out into the still puttering rain. He made it half way back before the skies opened up and began pouring down on him. Around him, people scattered quickly to get their umbrellas out or duck inside buildings. Shouting across the street brought his attention away from the scuffling of a shorter old couple pushing their way into a mattress store. His eyes glanced to the left, watching as the construction crews all along the roadway shouted at one another to cover their work and salvage what they could before getting under cover for the heavy downpour.  He hadn’t been looking for anything in particular, just taking in the shouting when his eyes caught the gaze of another pair. Green tilted hazel staring right back at him from under a dirty white hardhat, those dark, angry eyebrows focused in his direction.

 

                Stiles nearly fell over, fumbling to keep a hold of the coffee in his grasp as the pink flush rose on his cheeks. His glasses fogged up, obscuring the look on the other man’s face but it was clear that he had no intention of looking away anytime soon, despite the rain pummeling down on them.  Stiles took off quickly, stumbling once before he made it to the entry door, shuffling his way quickly to the elevators and only breathing once he stood on the fifth floor. Lydia stepped out from her office around the corner and eyed him with slight disdain.

 

                “You are dripping all over my carpet.” She huffed, taking the coffee from his palm and savoring a slow drink of the beverage. “At least you didn’t get water in it. Now go change, you have two suits in the armoire in my office.” The offer came over the top of her cup, lips still pursed against the edge, though her eyes were focused just beyond his shoulder. 

 

                “You keep extra suits in your office for me?”

 

                “Of course I do. Have you met yourself?” Lydia huffed, all but ignoring him now in favor of staring in the direction of the reception area. Stiles followed her line of sight towards the front desk, where her retiring secretary looked to be training the new one. Mrs. Shaw had been a sweet middle aged lady who was always on top of her work just like Lydia liked it.  She’d been reluctant to let the older woman go but she’d been insistent that she needed to move back home to Wisconsin and care for her aging father. Lydia couldn’t be too upset with her reasoning, but asked that she stay long enough to train a new secretary before she left, to which Mrs. Shaw had been more than happy to oblige.  

 

                The young woman behind the desk now had long flowing chestnut waves and a very proper business look about her.  Her skirt and jacket set was pressed just so and her makeup done delicately. She seemed to be listening intently to everything that Mrs. Shaw was telling her, smiling kindly at the woman before following her lead.  Stiles glanced between the two women and Lydia, who seemed stuck in a long, unblinking moment of deliberation.

 

                “Lydia? Earth to Lydia, come in Lydia.” Stiles muttered, waving a hand rapidly in front of her face, earning him a scowl and a none-too-gently slap of her hand against his.  “That your new secretary?”

 

                “Allison Argent. She worked for another firm as secretary until recently, so she’s got experience.” She nodded, eyes still on the women. “I didn’t expect her to be so young. Not that it’s a bad thing. At least she’s got a sense of style.”Lydia’s head tilted just slight to the left as though contemplating the lines of the other woman’s suit. After a moment, her eyes glanced over to see Stiles still standing beside her, eyeing her warily. “Well? What are you still doing here soaking up my carpet, Stiles. Go change!” she huffed, turning and moving away down the hall in the opposite direction, towards what he assumed was the vending machines. (She had a tendency to sneak a package of reeces  mid-mornings.)

 

                Stiles rolled his eyes in her direction, but did as she said none-the-less, beginning to remove his sodden clothing and placing the new suit against one of her chairs. Lydia’s office was nothing short of immaculate.  The walls were lined with diplomas, degrees, certificates and awards she’d won since the beginning of senior year in high school. All of the achievements that lead her to where she now stood, growing up the chain of command for a position of power.  And no one could stand in Lydia’s way when she put her eye on the prize.

 

                He was in the middle of tugging one of his pants legs off of his foot when a sharp rapping came on the door. Before he could respond, however, the door swung open and crowding up the doorway stood Mr. Hot Construction Worker from across the street. He’d apparently had time to change out of his own soaked shirt and was sans the safety hat, his dark shocks of hair a bit wild from the rain.  He looked a bit stunned, his hand tight on the door handle, watching as Stiles swayed, wide-eyed with his foot gripped in his hand and half undressed. Ten feet behind him, Lydia’s stood smirking in glee. The packet of candy hung at her side as she tried to smother her laughter. 

 

                With a quick stuttered apology, the broad man backed out of the room, closing the door. However, Stiles didn’t have time to recover before the door opened once more and the man, not even attempting to avoid looking at Stiles still perched in flamingo position, dropped something (that Stiles would later come to realize was his badge) in the chair seated next to the entryway, then backed out once again, shutting the door once again.

 

                Outside the office, Lydia watched in amusement as the construction worker of Stiles’ obsessions flushed up high along his neck, nodding his thanks to her before taking off in a hurry out the doors. Seconds later a loud crash came from the office followed by a surprised squawk and she could no longer hold the laughter in. Never minding the employees startled looks from the surrounding cubicles, Lydia cackled, sweeping the long ginger locks over her shoulder and turning on her heel to make a beeline for the new secretary’s desk.  The girl was cute, professional and from her paperwork, intelligent.  Lydia could smell a beautiful relationship on the horizon.

 

**

 

                It was less than a week later and that, Stiles thought as he caught sight of the broad shoulders at the end of the isle, was completely unfair.   He usually did his grocery run at the same store on the same day of the week and not once had he ever had the unfortunate luck of running into anyone that he knew from work or otherwise. But, of course, his luck would run out after he’d already embarrassed himself. He thought of turning and fleeing. After all, he really didn’t need blueberry granola bars that badly. Or cereal. Or any sort of breakfast food that this isle offered him. In fact, if he needed it that badly he could always pop down the street to the local convenience store and pick up a package of terrifyingly old cherry poptarts. He was already nodding to himself decisively when the man glanced over his shoulder, catching Stiles’ eyes.

 

                And then. And then. Oh crap.

 

                Almost violently, the man turned his cart, the wheels making a rather ugly rubbing noise against the worn tile of the floor, and made his way quickly towards Stiles.  Were he in a cartoon, Stiles supposed, he would be cowering down, his knees shaking and his glasses cracking from the sharp intimidation the man’s stare held.  Self preservation seemingly fled him, his mouth gaping halfway between open and closed when the tall, broad shouldered frame came to a stop in front of him. He felt the small hand basket slipping and gripped it tighter like a lifeline.  The taller man came to a hard stop in front of him, coming up from around the large basket to hover just in front of him, a range of facial expressions and what Stiles could only assume were emotions, running across his face. 

 

                Daring a glance at the taller man’s basket, Stiles noticed that it was almost barren save a few items. A bag of barbeque chips, pistachios, a package of flank steaks, Worchester sauce and a box of…a box of blueberry granola bars. Stiles blinked, realizing then that the man had said something to him. “Wah?” he gaped back up, noticing finally that though he loomed over him, the man really wasn’t that much taller, only a few inches if that.

 

                With a frown, the man repeated his sentence, gripping at the edge of his basket. “I said ‘I’m sorry for barging in yesterday while you were changing.’ Your boss said that you were in the room, she neglected to mention that you were half-dressed.” And dear god his voice was ethereal.  “You dropped your ID when you were going back inside. I thought it might be important.” He offered, shrugging one shoulder and staring Stiles down with those intense eyes.

 

                “Oh, um, yeah, I saw that you returned that. Thank you. I mean, I know it was probably out of your way and all, but I really do appreciate it. Lydia would have reamed my ass if I had lost another one.  That would be four this quarter and I’m pretty sure she’s going to start taking it out of my salary if I lose any more. Then again she also threatened to start taking the food in the kitchen out of my salary as well but if it’s communal food then it’s free for all, right? I mean that’s part of having a corporate kitchen for management; to feed and be fed. Or is it to share and share alike?”

 

                The frown on the taller man’s face seemed to crease farther on his brow as Stiles spoke until it was obvious confusion written there. “You talk a lot.”

 

                The moment the words came from his mouth, he looked like he wanted to take them back, his lips tightening into a sharp line. Stiles barked out in laughter, his shoulders shaking and the man’s tension seemed to relax just the slightest. “Yeah I do. Lydia always tells me I never know when to shut up.”

 

                A small smirk tipped up on the taller mans’ mouth briefly but his hand relaxed its grip on the metal grates of the basket.  He’d just opened his mouth to respond when a voice called out from behind him, turning both their attention towards the end of the isle.

 

                “Derek!” A tall, gorgeous woman with dark flowing hair swept down the isle, her smile a complete contrast to the man – Derek’s – face. “I’ve been texting you for five minutes trying to find you! Did you turn your phone off again?” she huffed, coming to a stop next to him before eyeing Stiles predatorily. Suddenly her face lit up and she glanced between Derek and Stiles, her grin widening to defcon three level of terrifying.  “Is this him? This is him isn’t it!”

 

                “Him?” Stiles squeaked, confused and stealthily started inching back towards the end of the isle.

 

                “Of course you are him, just look at you. You’re such a cutie.” She chortled, reaching out to pinch his cheeks. Derek’s face lit up and he scrubbed at it desperately with a hand before grabbing the woman’s arm and tugging her back towards him.

 

                “Laura-“

 

                “Don’t be rude, Derek. You haven’t even introduced us yet!”

 

                “Well if you’d shut up for a minute I could tell-“

 

                “Rude! Again with the interrupting me. That’s no way to show off, Der. Poor guy probably thinks you are just a rude, scary old wolf man.” She chuckled, ducking away from the playful swat.

 

                “Ah-“ Stiles started, only to be rolled over by Laura’s voice, something that both startled and impressed him.

 

                “And now here you are just being rude and violent, might I add, which I’m sure isn’t impressive to-“ she looked pointedly at the shorter of the two men who responded with an almost breathless ‘Stiles’  “-Stiles in the least. If you have any hope of making a good impression on the man, Derek, you are going to have to try harder than that.”

 

                “To be  _fair_ , Laura, I didn’t even know his name until you badgered it out of him.” Derek glared down at the woman, Laura, who had the nerve to look sheepish and shrugged at Stiles. Derek turned to him as well, shaking his head and enjoying the smirk that spread across Stiles’ face in return before holding his hand out. “Now that my sister has taken great enjoyment in embarrassing us both, I’m Derek.”

 

                “Stiles.” He chuckled, taking the other man’s hand and shaking it firmly. His palm was warm and his hand was a little bigger than Stiles with thick, rough fingers that he should really stop thinking about now if he wanted any chance of walking away from this normally. “And it’s okay.” He addressed that to both of them before turning his gaze back to Derek’s, “I’m usually the one that is steamrolling people verbally so it’s a fresh take on conversation for me. “

 

                Derek chuckled, taking a step back towards his cart and tugging at Laura’s shirt, hinting. “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your shopping, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. We should get back to shopping.” He offered.

 

                Stiles felt his face drop just the slightest before he backed up a step, nodding. “Right, of course. I mean, we both have shopping to do and all. You know the cooking and the eating it thing. Too right you are.”

 

                Laura glanced between the two once again, throwing her hands up and starting off down the aisle. “You two are hopeless.” Were the only words she offered before heading around the end cap, Derek following behind, offering a short wave before he, too, disappeared from sight.  Stiles may or may not have stood there for another few minutes before grabbing his granola bars and heading for the checkout with only half a completed list.

 

                **

 

 

                Shortly thereafter, a pattern began emerging. First it was once or twice a week, then three or four and suddenly he was seeing Derek or Laura, Derek and Laura or just Derek everywhere. Granted, he saw Derek nearly every day as he passed the entrance to his office, but he now took notice to train his gaze across the street and sure enough, Derek was almost always there with a short acknowledging wave before the two went to their mutual jobs. But it was more than that. It was everywhere.

 

He ran into him again at the grocery store not a week later only to find the man hovering behind him at the oranges display (Stiles had been blocking the oranges, admittedly). He’d jumped a bit, shouting briefly that Derek startled him. When he’d gotten a frown in return and a short, curt ‘why does everyone act like I’m so terrifying?’, Laura’s voice had piped up from the next isle over with a comment about his big, scary frowning angry brows of doom and how they were the stuff of little children’s nightmares. Stiles had laughed for almost five minutes, but the fighting smirk on Derek’s face had been worth it.

 

And it was not just the grocery store, but in the downtown market, in central park, the convenience store across from his friend’s apartment (both on a late night run, Derek had walked him back to the apartment), the men’s department in Macy’s (‘you like chinos?’), in that café across town eating a sub too large for one normal man (Derek had offered half, Stiles hadn’t had the heart to turn him down), on the subway (which had shocked him at first, but Derek had made the substantial move to come stand next to him, gripping the next hand bar over and keeping him company with silence or short talk) and outside the theater.  

 

                Looking back, Stiles probably should have been clued in.  And though he was intelligent, no one could ever deny Stiles being oblivious. Because apparently he was.  The signs were all there and he missed them. Probably should have known, but he was also a bit blindsided by the sudden constant presence of the hulking, handsome Derek at every turn.

 

                It was the movie theater that changed everything.  He’d mentioned to Lydia that he was going to take in a movie and she’d offered to tag along. Point one. Lydia never tagged along to movies. Not unless it was a premier with plenty of celebrity elbows to be rubbed.  So when she cancelled last minute, it didn’t really faze him too terribly much. He’d gone to plenty of movies on his own before and Lydia may not have even appreciated his taste in cinema.

 

            When he arrived at the theater, he was stunned to see Derek milling around just inside the glass doors, checking the watch on his wrist and glancing around like he was looking for someone. Oh. Of course he was looking for someone. A guy like Derek surely got dates all the time, but Stiles wasn’t so sure he was keen on knowing who the lucky girl was. Instead, he avoided looking directly at the other man, checking out the options on the billboard. He’d just made his selection when he noticed Derek had stopped looking around and was now focusing his gaze in one direction. His.

 

            Stiles turned side to side briefly, trying covertly to make certain he wasn’t looking at anyone else before he waved. Might as well be friendly if the guy was going to be looking. Check that, coming this way.  Derek stopped in front of him, nodding his usual greeting. Now that Stiles was looking, he was dressed rather nicely. Leather jacket, dark wash jeans and was that a pressed polo? He’d never seen him in a polo before…

 

            “So what movie?”

 

            “Sorry, what?” Stiles shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing that he’d yet again missed something that Derek had said to him while still managing to think of the man himself.

 

            Raising a sardonic eyebrow, Derek repeated his words, shoving his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and tugging out his wallet. “I said, which movie? Which one are you choosing?”

 

            “Oh! Oh, I was thinking Elysium looked good. I mean I like Matt Damon and I like Jodie Foster and futuristic movies appeal to me so..yeah. Elysium looked good.  That and nothing else is really pulling me in.” he shrugged one shoulder, taking in the way Derek nodded before moving away from him towards the ticket counter. Stiles blinked for a moment, feeling as though their conversation had been abandoned, but then caught Derek eyeing him over his shoulder and moved up behind him in line. 

 

            However, when Derek turned back around, wallet still in hand, he had two tickets. Oh, right. Date, he forgot. Smiling tightly, Stiles nodded, glancing just past the taller man’s shoulder before his attention was caught once more by the ticket being held out to him. “huh?” he muttered dumbly.

 

            “You did say Elysium, right?  Here. Pretty sure you are going to need to show your ticket to get in.” And with that he received a smirk before Derek took off again, this time towards the concession stand.

 

            Stiles felt a little more than confused, gaping down at the ticket in his hand, then back up to the man purchasing snacks.  Derek had bought his ticket. Derek had bought his ticket? Okay. So, maybe he figured it would be easier to just get it since he was already up there, but still.  Shaking himself out, Stiles moved over to where the other man was, noting that there was now only one ticket in his hand. Maybe his date never showed?

 

            “I’m gonna go on inside, then.” Stiles offered, taking note that the other man only glanced at him briefly, now tapping away on his phone quickly. “Okay, well, um, thanks.” He mumbled then moved away swiftly towards the admittance line without a glance back.  After turning in his ticket and settling himself into a seat directly in the middle of the theater, he felt a little more at ease. So the guy bought him a movie ticket. It was sort of like they were friends now. They ran into each other enough for it to be. And so maybe those run-ins turned more into an hour or two talking or hanging out. He still didn’t have his phone number or knew where he lived, it just…sort of…was.

 

            Once again, however, all of his theories were tossed out a very tall window when Derek settled comfortably down into the seat to his left, sitting a large drink in between them and placing a ridiculously oversized bucket of popcorn on the floor between their feet.  The slightly bulky man shifted around in the chair uncomfortably until he got settled, all but ignoring Stiles’ befuddled gaze.  Once he’d finally settled into place, reaching to take a long drink of soda, the lights began to dim and any questions that may have been on Stiles’ tongue died in favor of previews.  The screen lit up bright with the first motions of the digital projections and he found himself quickly sucked in.

 

            What happened  _during_  the movie, well, that took the whole situation from strange and a little awkward to ‘what the hell is going on’ in .5 seconds.  The first part, Stiles could concede, was his fault entirely. Halfway through the movie when a fight was at its peak, he reached out without thinking and grabbed a large handful of popcorn from the tub that Derek had been nursing  before taking up the drink and downing a large gulp, too enraptured by the on-screen battle to notice anything out of place. Next to him, the tenseness in Derek’s shoulders seemed to evaporate, loosening into a more relaxed stance. What happened next was definitely  _not_  his fault.  Just as he was breathing out from the intensity of the confrontation on screen and watching Matt Damon talk out more of the plot, a thick, warm arm settled over the back of his seat.  Derek’s hand dropped around the edge of his shoulder and he felt the other man settle into place. When he glanced over however, eyes wide and round, Derek’s gaze was firmly on the movie. Turning his own face forward again, Stiles could feel his heartbeat rushing through his veins.

 

            Oh god.

 

            Oh god. What is this? What is happening? Why did he put an arm around me? Why is he letting me eat his popcorn? Why is he letting me drink his coke? Why did he buy my ticket?

 

            Is this a date? Oh god this is a date. This is a date isn’t it? How could I not know this is a date? Is this a date?

 

            “Is this a date?” he blurted once the credits began to roll and the other patrons had already begun their ascent from the theater. No one turned to look at them, thankfully, but Stiles could still feel the redness creep up his neck from the bold question that burst forward.  

 

            Derek turned to stare at him like he’d grown another head. “What else would it be?”

 

            Oh yeah, that was definitely hyperventilating edging at the back of his lungs. “We were on a date.” He fumbled again, feeling incredibly intelligent.

 

            This time Derek frowned, his arm moving away a few inches. “You didn’t know this was a date.” That was definitely a statement, not a question, but he still felt the need to respond, shaking his head slowly, blinking away the confusion.

 

            Stiles realized that the face he liked least on Derek was the next one to form. His entire body seemed to tense up and he shut down, frowning and embarrassed. Instead of speaking, however, the man stood, shuffling away from the seat and starting towards the exit without another word.  In the few seconds it took him to realize what had just happened, Stiles had jumped up from his seat, effectively dumping the remainder of the drink all over his shirt and part of his lap in his haste.

 

            “Derek!” he called, following through the tight throng of people after the retreating leather jacket.  He didn’t bother with apologies, instead pushing his way past patrons to keep the other man in his sights.

 

            It was only once they were outside and he spotted Derek heading down the sidewalk away from the theater that Stiles had gotten himself under control. So this was a date. There were worse things. Lots of worse things, especially when it was a date with the guy he’d been falling all over himself for months about.

 

 

                “Derek wait! Wait, please!” Stiles cried out, grabbing at Derek’s arm as he caught up, breathing heavily. “Wait, just wait, okay?”

               

 

                The taller of the two allowed himself to be stopped, turning to frown deeply down at Stiles, his ears the color of cherries, shoulders tight again. “What Stiles? What do you want? I feel like I’ve humiliated myself enough tonight, I really don’t need to make it any worse by talking about it.”

 

                “No. No nonono, you don’t understand. I didn’t-“ he huffed, feeling rather out of shape as his lungs struggled to catch up with his impromptu sprint.”I didn’t know that it was but I’m not complaining. I mean, I’m not mad or upset or anything. I’m…I’m glad!” he blurted out, certain that his own ears were now tinged bright.

 

                Derek seemed to take pause at this, carefully turning to face him again. “You are.”

 

                And yeah, Stiles really wasn’t sure if that was or was not a question, but he nodded none-the-less.

 

                “But you didn’t know it was a date.”

 

                “No.”  he really hoped that came off apologetically. “Though honestly I really didn’t have a reason to think it was because it’s not like we ever talked about it, you know? I mean, we run into each other and end up doing stuff but I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight which is a little confusing because why were you here for a date if I didn’t know you were going to be here? Lydia just bailed on me and then suddenly you were here and, ya know, it was a date apparently.”

 

                “You didn’t know I was-“ Derek started before the epiphany rushed across his face. Angrily, he scrubbed at the skin between his eyes, then looked back down at Stiles. “Laura. God damnit. She set this up. She told me…I mean, we’d been having lunch and she told me that you’d mentioned something about the movies and what time I should be here and, Jesus I’m going to kill her.”

 

                “Wait, so your sister set us up?  You mean she put it in your head that this was a date and didn’t even consult me?  But neither did you!” Stiles huffed, shivering a little from the cold of the coke seeping through his shirt.

 

                “She kept telling me that you were shy! She said that she couldn’t give me your number because you weren’t ready to communicate on that level or some bullshit!” Derek snapped back, then felt rather stupid once the words were spoken. “That sounds absolutely idiotic now that I hear it out loud. Shit, she made that up, too, didn’t she? She doesn’t even have your number.”

 

                Once again, Stiles shook his head, letting out a slight laugh. “Your sister is terrible at this whole sneak dating thing. Dude. We got sneak dated.” He chuckled, feeling slightly better when the corner of Derek’s mouth tilted upwards in returning. “Though…to be completely honest, I don’t mind.”

 

                That seemed to take Derek by surprise and he raised an eyebrow, searching Stiles’ face. “Seriously?”

 

 

                “Well…I mean I have kind of had a thing for you for months now.” The shorter confessed with a snort, “And you did buy me popcorn. That’s pretty much a guaranteed bonus. Plus you’re nice enough and you’re pretty damn considerate. Though you’ve got this sister problem, so she’s probably going to have to be left out of the next date entirely.”

 

 

                “Next date, huh?” Derek smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets, then pulling them right back out. “I like the sound of that. Especially the part where we both know it’s a date.” This time he laughed right along with Stiles before reaching out and tugging lightly at the edge of the other man’s shirt. “That’s got to be cold. I’m right around the corner if you want to borrow another shirt.”

 

 

            Stiles felt his face heat up, but he nodded all the same. “Yeah, that would be great. I caught the bus here, so I don’t have an extra change of clothes or anything.”

 

            Derek nodded, tilting his head in invitation and the two began their journey side by side towards the apartment buildings down the street.  It was silent for a few minutes, long enough to make the almost constantly vocal Stiles anxious. “I didn’t know you lived over here.  I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before since this is pretty much the only movie theater in New York that I come to.”

 

            Derek shrugged at that, glancing over at his companion. “I don’t go to movies much. We have our own entertainment system setup at home and I’m not big on going out when I can just wait a few months and rent it.”

 

            “I think that’s why I go to this one. It’s smaller and less packed than most the other ones. Don’t get me wrong, I can be a bit of a social butterfly, as Lydia so gracefully puts it, but sometimes it’s nice to enjoy a movie in a smaller setting. I do like the big screen and surround sound though, nothing can replace that.” Stiles grinned, pushing his own hands into his pockets only to remember that they weren’t completely dry and tug them back out.

 

            “My sister loves going to the Regal Union but it’s always so packed that it’s just uncomfortable. She loves the theater though, the bigger the better. I think that’s why she invested in the home theater system, so she didn’t have to miss anything if she was too sick to leave.” Derek smirked, shaking his head briefly. “She’s always loved the movies since we were kids. I think that’s what drew her here and I didn’t want to leave her by herself so just…followed.”

 

            Stiles was thrilled that he was being offered the personal information so easily. From afar, Derek had seemed like a closed off type of guy. Not that Stiles had ever thought it would go anywhere past him staring longingly down at the muscles of the man hammering away at the cement. Yet here he was, listening to Derek regale him with information about his personal life openly as though they’d known each other for years. It put a sense of ease within him. This really, really could have gone worse.

 

            The fifteen minute walk to the apartment had been nice but still a bit cold on Stiles’ end. Worth the wait though as he pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt a slight bit too big for him, tucking his own clothes into a grocery bag for the way home.

 

            “At least let me drive you home. It’s dark and it’s New York.” Derek says as though they both haven’t been living there for years, but Stiles agrees none-the less, especially when he sees the car that Derek drives.

 

            His apartment is, embarrassingly enough, a far cry from Derek’s modest surroundings. Lydia had insisted that they both get an apartment just outside of Central Park, even conning the manager into allowing them to live in neighboring apartments. This, of course, meant that he was never late to work and almost never called in when there was a vivacious red head yelling at him to get up and get to work every morning. Sometimes on Saturdays, but he figured that was just her way of showing affection. Affection that earned her musicals blared through the walls at her around midnight the following evenings.  His apartment itself is fairly modest. It’s got a large set of windows that look out over New York City and blackout curtains for movie nights.  Up a short flight of stairs is a decent sized bedroom filled with all the things important to him that he couldn’t bare to leave in Beacon Hills.  

 

            He’d been pleasantly surprised when Derek had accepted his invitation to come up, making them both a cup of coffee while the taller man wandered the living room, taking in the pictures on the wall and side table of friends and family, chuckling to himself on some of them. It was a strange thing, to see a man he’d been admiring and all but spending most of his free time with (whether it was accidental or not, now that he was questioning his friend and Derek’s sisters’ motives) wandering so comfortably about his apartment.  He didn’t look at all out of place, instead he fit in well with the surroundings, the shape of his shoulders relaxed and his face open and content. It made Stiles’ heart pound in his chest with a hope he hadn’t felt in a few years.

 

            Derek accepted the Spiderman mug with only a quirk of his lips and a questioning eyebrow. “What can I say,” he retorted, taking a sip of his coffee, “I’m a nerd through and through. You should see my sock drawer; I’ve got more Batman boxers than I can count.”

 

            Derek eyed him briefly and Stiles snorted when he realized what he’d said a loud. “Sorry, there’s also that lack of filter sometimes. You didn’t need to know that.” He laughed somewhat nervously, hiding his mouth behind the lip of his cup.  Derek simply grinned in return, taking another long drink of his own coffee (almost more sugar than Stiles).

 

            The minutes ticked by, nerves and another emotion he couldn’t place swirling in Stiles’ stomach. He knew what he wanted. He’d wanted it for months. But after this rather strange start to their dating, or what he was now aware had been mistaken for dating, he was almost desperate to break the fragility of what they had and create something far more solid. Finally, he made up his mind, glancing between Derek and the windows that sprawled across the exterior wall.

 

            “So, uh, it kind of looks like it’s going to rain.”

 

            Derek’s brow furrowed and he glanced over his shoulder out at the clear night sky, a few faint stars visible over the glare of the city lights. Turning back, he took in the look on Stiles’ face before replying with narrowed eyes. “Is it?”

 

            Swallowing hard, Stiles responded with a hard nod. “Yeah. Those are some pretty big storm clouds coming in. In fact I think it’s going to pour down. You know how the weather gets around this time of year. It’s probably going to make the roads slick too. You should probably stay. The night. For safety reasons.” He flushed, watching the realization cross over Derek’s face.  He didn’t have to wait long though before an accompanying grin crossed the taller man’s face.

 

            “It does look like it’s going to rain pretty hard. Probably not safe to drive the camaro so close to a downpour.”

 

            Smiling widely and with a light flush crawling up his neck, Stiles took Derek’s cup from his hands, setting both mugs down on the side table next to the couch and took a step closer.   “That’s probably for the best. After all, I would feel just awful if I sent you out in this terrible storm and you had a wreck after being so nice and letting me borrow your clothes.”

 

            Derek nodded slowly, fingers twitching at his sides as the shorter man moved into his personal space, the heat from their skin mingling in the cool air.  He took his own step forward, tilting towards the other man before pulling away quickly, a shit-eating grin blooming on his face. “Your couch is comfortable right?”

 

            Stiles burst into laughter, springing forward to grab at the edges of Derek’s jacket, tugging him in against his body and pressing their mouths together for the first time. Now, he wasn’t one to over exaggerate, but when people mention sparks flying, they mean sparks  _flying._

Even as Derek’s arms wrapped around his waist, he tugged them backwards, angling their movement towards the bedroom with a pleased noise…right before they stumbled over the stairs and went crashing in a tumble of limbs and laughter to the floor below.

 

** 

                       

*~* TWO YEARS LATER*~*

 

The phone rang on the far side table, vibrating against the wood until Derek’s hand slapped down over it with a groan.  Blindly he groped at the keys, wincing into the harsh artificial light before bringing the phone down against his ear.

 

                “Lydia.”

 

                “Put your lazy husband on the phone.”

 

                With a snort, Derek rolled to his left, nudging gently at Stiles’ shoulders until the other man huffed, snatching up the phone. “Lydia, the entire point of a honeymoon is that people  _don’t_  call you.”

 

                “Yes well, most people don’t work as a VP assistant, now do they? Now wake up, I’ve let you sleep in enough and I need your opinion on some paperwork.” She huffed and he swore he could nearly hear her filing her nails through the line.

 

                “May I remind you that while it is ten am in New York, it is barely even five am in Hawaii and the sun isn’t even up and therefore, I should not even be up unless it’s to attend to certain parts of my husband and those should be the only parts that should be up this early.”

 

                Lydia choked off what he assumed to be a squeak through the line and he couldn’t help but smirk, ignoring the chuckling to his right as Derek settled back into the warm sheets of their plush king sized bed.

 

                “And may I remind you just who paid for said honeymoon?”

 

                “Touché.” He huffed, glancing banefully at the rude red glowing letters of their in suite alarm clock.  It was true, Lydia had gone out of her way (though with company vacation pay he was certain) to pay for not only the ceremony (which both of them had thought rather unnecessary since they had originally planned on simply going to the courthouse until she threw an ever loving fit) as well as the honeymoon.  Stiles shouldn’t had been surprised that she booked them a twelve day all inclusive suite in Maui.

 

                “Right, so I’ll give you till the weekend then I expect to hear from you. These files aren’t going to do themselves, sweetie.”

 

                “And if I you don’t?”

 

                “Then I’ll make you work  _all_  of the dockets when Allison and I take  _our_  honeymoon.”  She warned, though the threat came through as more tease than anything else and he already knew she had an all-knowing smirk crossing her lips.

 

                “Fine.  I’ll call you first thing Monday morning the second we land in L.A.” Stiles offered, trying valiantly to ignore the small kisses his new husband was pressing along his arm in favor of shaking Lydia off the call. 

 

                “You do that. And tap that once more for Allison and I, will you? God knows you horde it all to yourself.” Lydia teased and he could have sworn he heard an answering giggle in the background before he hung up without another word, tossing the phone onto his side table. 

 

                She slimmer man immediately rolled into the warm embrace awaiting him, meeting Derek’s mouth with his own and humming contently.

 

                “Maybe we should make her a commemorative video.” He spoke once they’d parted, trailing his fingers absently along the tight muscles of Derek’s arm and admiring him in the dim glow of the slowly growing morning hovering on the horizon outside their balcony windows.

 

                “Stiles?”

 

                “Hmm?”

 

                “Go back to sleep.”

 

                Stiles’ lips quirked upwards, pressing further against the other man in favor of kissing his shoulder. “Derek?”

 

                “Yeah.”

 

                “I love you.”

 

                The answering smile that spread across Derek’s beautiful face was all the answer he needed.

 

 

Fin. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah there was supposed to be porn and if I ever write it i'll either smidge it in where it's supposed to obviously go or put it in a side chapter for shits and giggles but for now, have at thee!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always love and you guys rock <3


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